The Revolution
by XMidnightXWerewolfX
Summary: Everyone knows the story of the American Revolution. American colonies rebelled against the English crown and defeated the most powerful empire in the world. What if they had failed? In this reality, America lost the revolution and England continued to rule America, becoming the Holy Britannian Empire and conquering over half of the known world, but what happened to America?


_Everyone knows the story of the American Revolution. American colonies rebelled against the English crown and defeated the most powerful empire in the world. What if they had failed?_

_In this reality, America lost the revolution and England continued to rule America, becoming the Holy Britannian Empire and conquering over half of the known world, the only ones able to rebel are those who surrendered soon enough to wage guerilla warfare and smart enough to utilize what they can, but what happened to America? What is he doing? What did England do to him…?_

America was once again laying on his couch face-first, England had started allowing him to stretch his muscles, but nothing more than that. Today, he was to be allowed to wander around a secluded area, a perfect chance to push forward his plans for escape. For hundreds of years now, England ruled over America, but since he lost the revolution. America dreamt of becoming his own country, but with each attempt at escape he was put down further. Now was the day he made it, now was the day he escaped.

He heard England open the door to his house, he was allowed to stay in his own now. Since tracking technology became high in-use England need not tie him to a wall, if America made any attempts at leaving the alarms would blare and he would be put down by the security. It was almost cruel, knowing he could walk out now, but also knowing that if he did he wouldn't stand a chance.

It was a nice enough house to say the least, but the furnishings and electronics were just bars painted gleaming white, the color of his warden. He had been given entertainment and been supplied with comfortable accommodations, but he found little pleasure in either.

Sure, he'd play an online game, but that was just to calm his insanity that always crept in the dark, threatening to take him over. He spent more time drawing battle plans in his head. With the fear England might read his papers, he started drawing and storing every idea and plan he had ever thought of in his own mind, with this self-training he has a photographic memory of anything. On top of that, England let him play sports, which kept him strong and hardy. Confinement had both weakened, and strengthened him, in unimaginable ways.

England walked inside, and tried to look cheerful toward America, "Hello America, how are you?"America simply laid there, not responding and England shook his head. "Look at it this way America, today is the day I'm going to allow your boundaries to expand. You can wander around outside your house now. I know I've been hard on you, but it's for your own good."

America turned over, and looked at England with the same look as a tiger gave to its ringmaster, a look that said _'I accept your rule' _but secretly thinking _'I can't wait to maul you when you turn your back.'_ And that would happen, sooner or later.

England once again frowned; he was lying of course. It was for his own personal gain to keep America with him, he couldn't let him go, he refused to let him go. He couldn't allow his beloved America to be away from him. He treated him far better than the others, but that was a punishment in itself for America's way of thinking. He felt himself as England's lap dog, his pet of sorts, but today that would end, once and for all.

England walked up to America with his electronic key, and unshackled his leg. "I told you I'd let you have a bit of freedom. It's a thank you for not causing trouble." In sense, England was still treating him like a pet, when he doesn't bite, he gets a treat, every time he bites, that treat gets farther away. All he needed was to take the treat and run as soon as England smiled and looked away.

His time in seclusion gave him plenty of practice in acting, he gave a gentle a slightly submissive smile and England smiled back appreciatively. "That's the spirit America!"

America nodded. "Thank you England, I knew you'd keep your promise." What he really was saying was _"You fool, you've just released the animal." _He sat up and stretched his ankle, it was a bit still, but that wouldn't affect his running skills, hopefully. He had accounted for it and had England loosen it just enough that he could move it around so it wouldn't become stiff. His peaceful request hadn't caught England's attention much and he complied as well as America thought.

England ran his hand through America's hair, as though he was still a little child. He used to love it, but now it felt condescending, as though it was a physiological tool to make him feel like a helpless child again. He grinned, it was an honest grin as well, but the emotion behind it was not just happiness, but revenge as well. Revenge for the hundreds of years of undermining rule, and confinement in this house was coming.

America stood up, not too quickly, but fast enough to seem enthusiastic. England smiled at him and patted him on the back. "Come on America, let's go outside!" He said. "I know how much you love Baseball, how about we play some catch before I go?" He smiled, sincerely attempting to be kind to him, it almost made America feel bad for what he was going to do.

America nodded. "That sounds fun," he said. "Yeah, let's play." He agreed for a single purpose, to have England let his guard down, he'll play ball then a few hour after England leaves, he'll escape and lay out his plan for revenge.

As they got outside, England grabbed a few mitts he had brought and a baseball. He tossed one of the mitts to America and smiled warmly. "I hope you still know how to play~!" He threw the ball at him and America caught it. "I'd hate to think I left you there that long!"

America smiled and tossed the ball back, "I haven't, trust me!" this moment reminded him of his childhood almost, and when he first made baseball, he and England would play it all the time. He shook his head out after throwing it back to him, he couldn't think like that, England kept him like a prisoner, he couldn't afford to be sentimental.

He and England threw it back and forth, chatting as they did it. America tried to tell himself it was to make him feel comfortable and unexpecting, but the truth was he enjoyed it, he may have rebelled against England, but that didn't mean he hated his guts. Even now, there was still a tiny bit of his body that believed England when he said he was doing this for his own good. That part was buried deep underneath him though, a place he didn't want to visit.

He caught it, and grinned. "So America, what were you doing in there?" he asked, tossing the ball back. "I sent you those games I know you love so much, how are they?" He was simply asking to be nice, the cameras and men outside America's house let him know everything America is doing.

America knew very well England watched him, that's why he always made his plans in his head. He caught it and nodded. "Yeah, they're awesome! You got just the right games!" he tossed it back. He was being honest of course; the games were enjoyable to say the least. He was more focused on his plans though, the games were more to keep his sanity.

England smiled, feeling that maybe America's confinement hadn't been as bad as he worried. He caught the ball then threw it back. "That's good, I was worried you wouldn't find them enjoyable!" he said. "After all, I'm not into those games like you are."

America caught the ball, and threw it back. "Don't worry, I enjoyed them plenty!" he smiled. "I like being outside though, I love the fresh air and relaxing feel!" he was being honest here, he missed the sun on his face, the breeze on his cheek, the rain on his head, and everything that came with nature.

England nodded, caught the ball, and threw it again. "Well now you have it all back," he said, he wanted to add, _"Just so long as you obey the rules." _However, he felt that would ruin the moment and that America already knew it, so why dig the nail deeper?

After a bit more chatting and tossing the ball around, America and England were really starting to enjoy themselves. Surprisingly, America started to actually feel more kindly towards England. He had actually played with him, like he had done when he was younger. It brought back a warm indescribable feeling in his heart. All good things must end though.

England's watch timed out and with his usual upset eyebrows, he smiled one last time to America. "I'm sorry America, I have to be heading off now," he said. "I enjoyed this time, we should do it again! Enjoy your time outside!" England ran off toward his car and after taking off, America's heart shattered.

He realized that England had treated him just like another appointment and now that it was over, he left just as he had come. He had only stayed for a half hour, but it felt like hours upon hours. Now, it felt like only a couple minutes since it had started, now he was alone.

He shook his head out, he couldn't let this get to him, this was just another trick of England's to manipulate him. He played catch just in hopes it might ease their tensions and nothing more. America looked to the ground and sighed "I should have known…" he looked back up, then grinned. He couldn't execute his plan for another few hours, he might as well enjoy his _peaceful _freedom while he had it.

He wondered what he should do first, then as he walked around and got closer to the tree line he said to himself. "Maybe I could sit in the forest, like I used to do as a kid and watch the animals." He smiled to himself, cherishing the memory. Being in the middle of nature was a time he'd always felt at peace, even around large bears or raging buffalo.

He walked into the forest, remembering all the trees and the times he spent around them. Today seemed to be a day for reminiscing because as he looked into one of the trees, he found something. It shone a yellowish color, reaching inside America felt around for it, hoping there were no bugs or small animals inside.

Inside he felt a rock, and something else, something… old and crusty. He pulled it out and it seemed to be a gold nugget, from him times prospecting in the west. He nodded, he remembered why he put it there, it was as a reminder of the hard word he did, and the time when he finally led the way to achieve the dream, to cover across the land until he reached the Pacific Ocean. England wasn't one for getting his hands dirty, so he let America handle things like that, with close supervision of course.

Then he looked at the notebook. It was old with a rawhide leather cover that was starting to crumple and old pages on the inside. He carefully flipped through them and laughed, they were drawings he had made himself when he was younger. There was one of a bison, another of a Native from when he was first here. Britannia decimated them, but many held out and were given treaties to have land. There were many others, but the one on the last page caught his eye.

He hadn't drawn it, where did it come from? It was written in far better handwriting than he ever had. As he looked closer, he realized it was a picture of him. He was lying on the ground, in pain as England pointed a musket at his head. He knew this scene…

"_England… please… All I wanted was… freedom…" America crawled toward England, half in tears at his own failure and stupidity. He couldn't believe what he had done. He'd rebelled against his own brother and failed, what would happen to him now? He got up and ran forward in one last desperate act, but England quickly hit him away with the butt of his musket._

_England trained his eyes on him, sensing the sincerity in his voice, but knowing all the while that he would stop at nothing for it. His actions a few moments ago proved just that. "I…" he looked at him, not knowing what to do. He couldn't shoot him, he knew that, but he couldn't let him have his wish either. So he did the only thing he could do… "Men, bound him in chains and put him under arrest, him in his room with guards posted at all times. I want no harm done to him unless he makes a move on you. Understood?!"_

_The men nodded, two of the bringing forth chains and England whispered to America. "I'm sorry America… it's for your own good…" he lied to him, for what would be the first of many times of the same lie. Then he watched as America was silently dragged towards his home, to be kept there and under constant guard. Spirit unbroken, and a vengeance already being craved in his heart America swore his revenge and freedom at that moment._

He frowned, it was his worst memory in his entire life, but something war added into the picture. It was a wounded bald eagle, laying on its back in the background with blood flowing out of it. The caption itself read, "This was not meant to happen, this was changed…"

America wondered what it meant, then he flipped to the opposite side of the same page and his eyes widened. He saw himself, standing above England the exact same way England had stood over him, with an air of confidence about him instead of annoyance. Behind him the eagle flew through the sky, in victory and pride. In the caption said "The true America… A nation is born…"

America didn't know what to think. He hadn't drawn those, and the book hadn't opened since he put it in the tree all those years ago, yet it looked like it had been drawn there all those years ago. How had it gotten there?

He shut the book. It would do him no good to worry over his old book now, maybe later when he was out of here. He slipped the book and the rock into his pocket, promising himself to investigate later.

He walked further out into the forest, knowing England had scouts stationed everywhere. He mapped out the entire forest in his head. Finding exactly where each and every spot to place someone would be, he pointed out the best positions and found the one closest to the edge of the forest. His plan was to take him out, and silently making his way toward the edge while the others have no idea what's happening until it's too late.

He could feel the trained sights on him, and the tranquilizer darts inside of the guns. He heard them sitting in the trees, and in bushes and in spider holes underground. He was always watched, but that ended today, today was him time to try again.

He got near the edge of the forest and looked around, smiling. England wouldn't place soldiers any further out because he knew America knew they'd be there, making sure he didn't escape. He didn't realize though, what America was capable of in his mind. He quickly scanned the ground, looking for the signs of someone in hiding.

It would have looked like nothing to anyone else, but he knew this forest better than anyone, this was him, this was his home. When he looked at the grass, he saw that almost all the blades pointed to his left, whereas a few in the shape of footsteps pointed toward the tree. He laughed, seeming nonchalant about it, but the true reason was that his plan was finally coming together just as he thought.

He reached over and, with only enough force to shake it, punched the tree. From the branches, a man fell down and hit the forest floor face-first. He responded quickly and reached for his com. device, but America was faster, and stepped on his hand, crushing it. "Nice try," he said, still smiling. "When they find you, tell England, that America is free."

He kicked him in the face exceedingly hard, and knocked him unconscious. Then he ran, he ran for the edge before anyone realized his latest attempt at escape. He couldn't help, but continue laughing at it all. It was so easy, he planned it out and it worked perfectly. Nothing else was needed to be done except run. Nothing was behind the guards to keep him inside, no fence, no landmines, no attack dogs, no England waiting for him expectantly, he felt free! And he had done laps each and every day before this, with England's approval so now he could run as long as he needed to before stopping.

He didn't stop running for a long time, then he thought about things. He thought that maybe England was right, and that he should stay behind, and hope that maybe England could start spending time with him again like he used to. He shook his head out again, he couldn't afford to think like that. If he did then his entire plan would be ruined. He had to keep going, it was too late to reconcile with him.

He kept going for half an hour, and stopped, cursing loudly. "Dammit!" He knew it was too easy. There was no way England would trust him like this. He should have known, he should have calculated, but old habits got the better of him and he went purely on instinct. He knew it had its advantages, but in this escape he couldn't afford to be wrong!

In front of him, was a large, barbed, electric fence.


End file.
